


Bastard Born

by Walkinthegarden



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Gendry and Arya are married, Gendry and Sansa bond, Gendry is a Baratheon, Joffrey and Sansa have children, Queen Sansa, Sansa raises a Baratheon bastard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 09:36:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1382638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walkinthegarden/pseuds/Walkinthegarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She smiled down at the beautiful child in her arms. For a moment, holding him, there was no evil trickery. He was perfect with a head of soft black hair like his father and beautiful blue eyes that she assumed belonged to his mother. She rocked him the way her lady mother had rocked Rickon in the summer nights. She wanted to keep him, to raise him to be beautiful and strong. He would be a better son then any Joffrey would have her bare to be the next king, that she was sure of. </p>
<p>Sansa smiled up at him and though he could tell she was happy, he saw the flicker of haunt in her eyes again. He wanted to curse Joffrey and all the pain he had caused, but despite everything, Joffrey had provided her with her greatest strength when he allowed Sansa to raise the bastard that would become her son. For all his acts, Gendry had to thank him for that one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bastard Born

“You’re alright dear boy, I’ve got you,” Sansa whispered affectionately to the babe that lay in her arms. “I won’t let anyone harm you, I promise.”

 

She smiled down at the beautiful child in her arms. For a moment, holding him, there was no evil trickery. He was perfect with a head of soft black hair like his father and beautiful blue eyes that she assumed belonged to his mother. She rocked him the way her lady mother had rocked Rickon in the summer nights. She wanted to keep him, to raise him to be beautiful and strong. He would be a better son then any Joffrey would have her bare to be the next king, that she was sure of.

 

“Who do you think you are?” her betrothed screamed angrily as the doors to her balcony were thrown open.

 

Sansa had expected it of course, so she didn’t flinch. Instead she looked up with a cold face and a dark smile.

 

“Your Grace,” she whispered sweetly, her voice hot with silent anger she would not let show.

 

“Who do you think you are to demand a meeting with me! I am the King!” Joffrey screamed into her face, causing the babe in her arms to cry.

 

“Hush sweet one,” she whispered, kissing the babe’s forehead. She smiled when his flailing stopped and he curled against her breast. “My love, I requested a moment of your time. If the message was misspoken I give you my deepest apologizes.”

 

“What is that?” he asked, as if noticing the baby in her arms for the first time.

 

“Your brother, bastard born,” she stated.

 

“I have ordered—”

 

“If you continue to tell your gold cloaks to kill the bastards of your father you are telling the people that the rumors of your grace’s mother and uncle are truth. If you continue, you say they pose threat to your throne that you have so rightfully claimed. I beg of you my King, my love, allow the children the privilege of your pardon. As the future Queen my first most duty is to do as you desire but my second is to love your people and ensure their love for their king. If you so desire, you may kill this baby yourself,” she told him calmly, stretching her arms so the baby pressed against his chest. Her final words were lies, as she would never allow him to harm the babe, but she needed him to believe her.

 

Joffrey stared at the child pressed to his chest. The little boy smiled up at him, a chubby hand reaching up to lock around a lock of Joffrey’s to long hair. Sansa was surprised when her public King (as her secret pledge was to Robb alone) reached up and took the child from her. Out of the corner of her eye she could see The Hound standing in the corner of her room. She was comforted by the fact that the burned man had sworn allegiance to her alone and had promised to slit the boy king’s neck should he so much as _attempt_ to hurt the babe. Still, she worried as Joffrey turned from her, cradling the small boy to his chest.

 

“A bastard in a castle,” he said, staring down at his brother with a glint in his eye that was usually reserved only for Myrcella. Slowly he turned back to her, the same smile he had given her when placing a locket around her neck on his face. “Of course my lady, my people will love me for my mercy on this boy. You will care for him as if he is your own and he will grow to be my strongest swordsmen.”

 

“Of course your Grace,” Sansa replied, overjoyed that the small boy would never be far from her side. Joffrey may not care for the boy (she knew too much to believe such things) but with the thought of a loyal swordsman for his Kingsguard, she knew he would not harm the child.

 

* * *

 

 

Years passed and the War of Five Kings came to an end and the Dragon Queen claimed the throne. In exchange for the help of the North she declared them a free and independent nation. Sansa was crowned Queen in the North with Rickon’s children to be her heirs (as the boy was to wild to ever be a ruler). Winter came and went and it was soon summer again. The snow didn’t crunch beneath their feet for the first time in ten years and the men and ladies of the court were able to leave their furs in their chambers (a practice that would not last long as their were so few days were it was so warm in the North).

 

Sansa, once Queen of the second Mad King (as he was called), mother of four Lannister children and one Baratheon, stood on the wall that overlooked the playcourt of her childhood home. She was dressed in a gown of bold sea foam blue that laced down her back. Her red hair was pinned high on her head with a few fallen tendrils. She was leaning against the wall’s edge, her arms crossed as she smiled brightly, watching as a black haired boy played swords with her sons.

 

“Prince Robb (full name Robert as a cover for Joffrey from back before), please be careful,” her second oldest son’s governess cried out while Sansa merely laughed. The young Queen had changed much since her time in King’s Landing. While she was still courteous, the rules did not matter as much. She encouraged her sons to be wild and free and scale walls and jest good naturedly.

 

“If only your boy could be King,” a voice said from behind her. Sansa didn’t turn to the person whom had spoken to her, she didn’t need to, in order to know who it was.

 

“He does not need to be King, he does not deserve that hardship. My only want for him is to fall in love and marry a woman worthy of him Ser Jamie,” she replied, turning just enough to see the one handed swordsmen out of the corner of her eye.

 

“Still, he’d make a great king, better then any child Rickon’s wife will ever bare.”

 

“I once said the same of your son,” she told him, her eyes never leaving her first son (even if it wasn’t by blood). “I have grown since then, now I thank the gods every morning that none of my children will have the burden of a royal leadership. I may have held no love for Joffrey, but for all his faults he still gave me four of my five children.” She finally turned to look at him, folding her arms across her chest and leaning against the half wall the same way Robb and Theon used to in her youth.

 

“He may have been my son but I never knew him, Cersei saw to that. Still, I fear he grew to be like me,” he told her, looking just past her in order to avoid her eye.

 

“You may have pushed my brother from a window and allowed your men to stab my father in the leg but you cried for it even if it _was_ years later. I am no fool to consider you a good man. Understand this Ser Jaime,” she told him sternly, walking towards him slowly, mocking him, “if I believed even for a fraction of a moment that you were capable of putting any of my children in danger, I would have allowed the Dragon Queen to take your head as she wanted.” Her stern face dropped and she gave him a smile that would have been sweet any other time. She allowed her arms to drop as she walked down the wall towards the castle.

 

Once inside, the young Queen was greeted by her sister’s husband. “Your Grace.”

 

“My Lord,” she greeted, startling the poor blacksmith who was still getting used to the title being married to a princess provided him. He chewed his lip, something clearly on his mind. “What is it good brother?” she asked, tilting her head. She had not spent much time with her good brother since his marriage to Arya three weeks before and she had not known him hardly at all before.

 

“Nothing Your Grace,” he replied, blushing as he made to hurry off.

 

“Gendry,” she said quietly, taking his arm gently. He turned to look at her and she saw pain on his face. “Tell me.”

 

“Um, Your Grace…”

 

“Sansa,” she cut in. She smiled slightly at his bewildered look. She knew Arya must have told him how proper she used to be, but she wasn’t that person anymore; living in King’s Landing had taught her just how little propriety mattered. “Call me Sansa when we are alone.”

 

“Sansa… why…” he blushed, she was starting to wonder if he did that a lot, “why did you allow me and Arya to marry?”

 

Sansa wasn’t as surprised by the question as she probably should have been. Instead she gave him a wide smile, taking his arm. Together they walked towards the Great Hall which was now full of servants and the royal family helping to put together the feast.

 

“Look at them,” she told him gently, not releasing his arm. She saw his eyes sweep across the room, taking in the faces of house. He saw Arya, standing on a table, helping the men guide the chandelier of candles. He saw Tommen, the stable hand and former prince of Westeros, pushing rows of benches alongside his father Jaime Lannister. He saw Margaery and Myrcella watching for imperfections. He saw Loras flirting shamelessly with one of Sansa’s young knights. He saw Jon Snow (now Stark) talking to Sam in the corner. He saw Brienne of Taft, lifting the long tables with many of the knights. He saw two of Sansa’s sons with their golden Lannister hair, cursing to themselves as they moved statues of direwolves the Dragon Queen sent them. He saw Sansa’s two beautiful fire haired daughters, giggling quietly behind their hands as they watched the Queensguard. Finally he spotted Sansa’s golden son, the boy she’d treasured for longer then he’s known her, the boy that was not her own but she loved more then anything else in the world. The boy was laughing, his sweat soaked curls sticking to his forehead. “Do you understand now?”

 

“Your Grace…”

 

“We’re all bastards one way or another. Arya, a princess of the north and daughter of a Lord, spent years wandering with no end in sight. Tommen and Myrcella were once the prince and princess of Westeros and now they are my knight and handmaiden. Jaime was the golden knight and now he is the exiled knight without a sword hand. Margaery was the daughter of a Lord and potential new Queen should Joffrey have seen fit to set our marriage aside and now she is my handmaiden and her brother is my knight. Jon spent his life as a bastard and now his is a Stark and Hand to the Queen. Brienne spent her life as an outsider and now she is the head of my Queensguard, where she is happiest. My children spent their lives as Princes and Princesses of Westeros until they were forced to watch their bastard of a father’s head cut off and now they are Princes and Princesses of the North. My son, my beautiful boy was a King’s bastard, your brother, and I raised him to be a wonderful swordsman and he became a wonderful prince. I lived the life of a bastard once for many years and now I am Queen once again. You _were_ a bastard and now you are Lord at Winterfell.”

 

With a smile Gendry turned his head to look at his good sister. She was unaware of it, to busy smiling affectionately at her people. She looked more relaxed then he’d ever seen her and for the first time he saw a glimpse of the girl she must have been. For a moment she looked her age. For a moment she looked innocent and untouched.

 

“Mother!” the eldest prince called when he spotted his mother. Gendry was still surprised when the boy of ten and seven ran to Sansa like a young boy. He didn’t know much about politics but he knew that boys so old didn’t show such affection when they were part of the royal family.

 

“My little prince,” Sansa greeted with affection as she wrapped the boy in her arms.

 

Sansa smiled up at him and though he could tell she was happy, he saw the flicker of haunt in her eyes again. He wanted to curse Joffrey and all the pain he had caused, but despite everything, Joffrey had provided her with her greatest strength when he allowed Sansa to raise the bastard that would become her son. For all his acts, Gendry had to thank him for that one.


End file.
